


Reassurance

by SilverShadow1711



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: "Dude she's like in a coma!", Eroji love scene, F/M, Graphic descriptions of gore, Yandere Jakob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShadow1711/pseuds/SilverShadow1711
Summary: Jakob's love and devotion for his ladyship went far beyond the call of duty. As such, he felt it was only natural he be rewarded for his service in a fitting manner... regardless of what she or her husband thought. A cheerful love story where no one of any import gets hurt... Oneshot





	Reassurance

Title- “Reassurance”

 

A/N- So, this was literally the first Fates fanfic I'd ever written, well back in October of 2015 (before the game had even come out in the states). I hadn't even played it, but watching other people's playthroughs and reading the translated supports instilled me with the urge to write, so I crapped this out. It stars my favorite love triangle, and to be honest, it's actually what inspired me to write “The Road Not Trekked”. Also, I used the Japanese names in some places, because this was before we knew what the characters were localized as- I don't think it's too confusing who's who.

 

Rated for yandere butlers, an erojiji love scene, and “Dude! She's like, in a coma!”, so reader beware...

 

000000000000

“ _You love me, don't you?”_

_000000000000_

 

The strong, sweet smell of black tea wafted in the air around Jakob as he scattered the dried leaves into the steaming water. For the briefest moment, they remained on the surface, before plunging into the depths of the pot, releasing their flavor and color into the water like a death sigh. There had been a time once, not that long ago, when he had put his very soul into brewing tea, as if he were an artist creating a masterpiece. He was, of course, for his tea was unrivaled in quality. Others begged him for a single cup, completely ravenous once the scent drifted their way, but of course he would not acquiesce. His superior tea was reserved for his lady-of-liege alone. The others could drink from a mud puddle. If tea were his art, his mistress was his muse.

 

Of course, those days were long since past. Now, he simply went through the actions, mechanical, unconscious, completely detached. The spark that once inspired him to try new blends and even create his own had sputtered and died. The desire to be praised for his many abilities had faded away. As Jakob loaded the silver tea tray with sugar and cream, putting the cozy over the pot, he felt numb. A numbness that seemed to weigh him down more and more with each step he took towards his mistress's room. Back at castle Krakenburg, her ladyship had been moved from the Northern Citadel and given, at least temporarily, lodgings in the main castle. As such, there were more people walking around than he was used to, but he scarcely noticed them. He rarely took note of anything these days, for his entire world seemed steeped in darkness. As he reached her door, he balance the tray on his left arm so that he could knock. He could just make out the muffled sounds of people talking.

 

“Come in.”

 

The door creaked as it swung open. This room was quite similar to his mistress's room back in the citadel, decorated with deep crimsons and elegantly carved wood. A wrought iron chandelier, as well as numerous wall mounted torches, bathed the room in warm light.

 

“You brought tea? Aw, you didn't have to trouble yourself with that.” A light, feminine voice caressed his ears, and he turned towards it. She sat on the bed, her back propped up against the headboard, an open book in her lap. Lady Nerr, his mistress. His significance of existence. His reason for living. Despite his melancholy, a smile tugged at his lips. It was impossible to truly be upset in Lady Nerr's presence- the very air around her felt gentle and calm. Still numb, but more pleasantly so, he set the tea tray down on the table a bit away from the bed and set to work pouring her a cup.

 

“It's no trouble at all, milady. I'm simply doing my duty.” It was a duty he so loved. It was so rewarding, the way she smiled even as she shook her head slightly in exasperation. As she took the fine porcelain cup from him, her fingers brushed against his. Only a light brush, barely enough to claim contact, but it sent him in raptures. He made sure to make it extra sweet, the tea. Her ladyship did so love sweet things...

 

“You seem to be half-assing your duty, if you ask me.”

 

And all at once, the pleasant facade had shattered, destroying any semblance of joy Jakob had momentarily felt and replacing it with anger and a burning hatred. Gritting his teeth so hard he worried they might crack, the young butler slowly turned around towards the sound of the second voice. This one deeper, hoarser. An older man, much much older than Jakob, sat at the table, tapping his fingers near the tea set. Though he wore plain clothes, a knight's breastplate rested on his knees, the hand not busy tapping holding a polishing cloth. Violet eyes fixed the younger man with a piercing stare, which he returned tenfold.

 

“Serving _you_ isn't part of my duty, old man.”

“Perhaps not, but respecting your elders is.” By this time, Lady Nerr had swung her feet over the side of the bed, perched on the edge in anticipation of having to get up. Her delicate brow was furrowed with concern.

 

“Please don't start this again, you two...” A part of him wanted to turn back to her, to assure her that he wasn't _starting_ anything, that he would never do anything to make her worry. But the anger, the loathing within him boiled like tar as he glared at the older man. He simply couldn't bring himself to look away, couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

 

“The only person I need to respect is Lady Nerr. _She_ is my master.” As the words tumbled out, he realized the trap he had just walked into. Mentally, he scrambled desperately to recall them, but it was already too late. For the briefest instant, something akin to a smile flitted over the other man's face.

“And _I_ am her husband. Or does that not count for anything to you?”

 

It felt as if a dagger had just been thrust in his gut. This was not a new revelation, of course. It had been over a month since Lady Nerr announced she intended to wed her retainer and arms instructor, Sir Gunther. Like most people, Jakob had assumed it was either a joke in poor taste, or else a way of disgracing his lady's name. When she affirmed personally that it was, in fact, his worst nightmares come to life, he was fairly certain he had blacked out for a moment. Such a thing couldn't possibly be true, it was too horrible to be true. It was every manner of vile and disgusting and immoral.

 

Nerr's elder siblings, crown prince Xander and lady Camilla, affirmed this. Xander insisted that, as a princess, she could not marry a commoner, regardless of his military honors. Camilla, almost as enamored with her young sister as Jakob himself was, kept to the more logical argument that it was wrong, plain and simple. The man was old enough to be her father, if not grandfather- hells, he had all but played the role of father for her for fifteen years. Jakob often butted heads with Lady Camilla, especially over Nerr, but as he heard her yell at the old man that he was “taking advantage” of her “innocent little sister” and she would kill him for it, he felt a warm surge of affection for the older princess.

 

Unfortunately for all who cared about her, Nerr could be surprisingly stubborn when she wanted to be. She informed both siblings that she was not asking their permission for this, simply their blessing, and if they did not care for her enough to give it, then so be it. As she reminded Prince Xander, she was a princess of _Hoshido_ , not Nohr, so she was no longer bound by the strict rules that he was, at least concerning marriage. And as for Camilla, she wasn't even going to try and convince her sister to come around to her way of thinking. After all, it was obvious the only way the older woman would be happy was if Nerr remained alone and by her side for the rest of her life.

 

Jakob knew that was exactly how Lady Camilla felt, for as he admitted bitterly and only to himself, it was exactly how he himself felt. Even if he could never have her, he had prayed so hard and for so long that no one else would either. That way, he could bathe in the warmth and loving kindness, and pretend that her affections for him were special. But alas, the gods were cruel to him.

 

He had been born into a family of wealthy aristocrats, with a title and a life of luxury laying ahead of him. The family he had been born into felt nothing for him except that he was simply in the way, and had left him in the custody of the Kingdom of Nohr. He had gone from being a viscount to being a butler, and a terrible, incompetent one at that. Even the other servants wanted to be rid of him, and had planned to send him to one of the workhouses in the underground capital. But Lady Nerr had saved him from that grisly fate. A little child, completely ignorant of the world outside the tower she lived in, but so gentle and kind and wonderful even then.

 

He had gone from being no one to being a retainer and personal steward for one of the princesses of Nohr. And he was truly blessed, for she had chosen him personally, she had always told him that she adored him, that he was so important to her... But not the most important, _never_ the most important. For in the end, she had chosen someone else, someone else who was the most precious person in the world to her, someone else who would be on the receiving end of all her love...

 

They'd only been married for two weeks, and most of that time had been spent on the battlefield, but it didn't matter to Jakob. The knowledge that, while he was alone, this miserable old bastard slept with Lady Nerr in his arms sickened him. And the worst thing was, Gunther knew, and he reveled in it. Despite his calm facade, one that Nerr could not see through because she wasn't yet corrupted by the world, the veteran knight was a sadist of the highest order. Jakob knew first hand the depraved levels of cruelty he could sink to, things that would make someone like Zero curl into a ball and weep. The old man called it “training”. Jakob respectfully disagreed, preferring to call it “interrogation techniques for prisoners of war”.

 

As he stood in Nerr's room, feet away from the table, visions played out in front of his eyes of simply walking over and throwing the scalding hot contents of the teapot into the old man's face, before proceeding to bludgeon him with the empty pot until all that remained of his skull was a sticky, red goo. It took every ounce of willpower within his body to resist that urge. Not because he knew that killing was wrong- he killed people every day on the battlefield. Such was life. No, it was only because beating the bastard to death would make Lady Nerr sad. He had only seen her be sad, truly deeply depressed, once, almost a year ago when they had all thought Gunther had fallen to his death at the Infinite Chasm. Jakob had been ebullient at the news, but as he watched his mistress sink deeper and deeper into the depths of despair, he realized that nothing, no matter how badly he wanted it, was worth her being sad. And he didn't want her to be sad ever again.

 

So even though he burned with loathing, he forced himself to swallow his rage. He was still Lady Nerr's retainer, and he would not disgrace her by behaving in an unseemly manner.

 

“I _made_ tea. It's _right_ there beside you. If you are so desperate to drink it, you can pour it yourself. The last I checked, your arms weren't broken.” Jakob was unsure if it was the refusal to follow orders or simply the blatant disrespect, but regardless of the reason, those were obviously fighting words for Gunther. The older man stood, his armor falling to the floor with a loud clang, as he grabbed a gleaming sword that lay on the table beside the tea tray that started it all. Judging by the damp whetstone beside it, it was freshly sharpened. But that didn't matter to Jakob- he always kept his knives sharpened as well.

 

Before either man had a chance to draw blood, Nerr jumped between them, still holding her teacup, which was still full.

 

“Okay! That's enough, you two. There is no sparing in here, my room is not a training ground. Jakob,” she turned towards the butler, looking for all the world like a disappointed parent. Jakob cringed and looked away- he hated that look. Lady Nerr being disappointed was almost as bad as Lady Nerr being sad. “Jakob... You really do need to show Gunther a bit more respect. If not because he's a knight, then because he's my husband. Please.” The words stung his ears, like holy magic on a demon. It didn't seem she expected any kind of response from him, for she immediately rounded on her 'husband'. “And you... for the love of the gods, just let it go. It's like you're just trying to pick an argument. If you're so desperate for a cup of tea, then take mine.”

 

She held the still full cup out with an imploring look on her face. Jakob already knew he wasn't going to take it, because that wasn't the point. Under the reproachful gaze of his wife, Gunther seemed to deflate and, just as he expected, gently pushed away the teacup.

 

“That's not the point, Nerr. I'm not drinking your tea. _Any_ of your tea, because _that_ ,” he jabbed an accusing finger at the innocuous teapot. “is all your tea. That... _boy_ didn't make that tea with the intention of letting anyone but you drink it. He always does this, and until he can get over his spiteful pettiness, I'm not drinking any of it.” Jakob knew Lady Nerr had told him to be respectful, and he normally followed any orders she gave him directly, but the loathing, the spite and the pettiness, they were lodged so deep down in his soul that the words came out before he consciously thought about them.

 

“I hope you enjoy dying of thirst, old man.”

000

 

Every day it was the same. Every day, Jakob walked about in misery until he saw Lady Nerr, which brought him a moment of joy until he remembered exactly what was making him so miserable in the first place. It wasn't fair. The injustice of it all was what caused him the greatest agony. She could've chosen him if she had wanted to. The had practically been raised together, he was only two or three years older than her. Since that day when she had declared that he was to be her personal steward, he had been by her side constantly. He made her tea, fed her breakfast, washed her clothes, and her back and her hair. He did everything for her. He was always beside her. He worshiped her. If she said kill, he'd kill. If she told him to die, he'd gladly die. He had been told that he was attractive. He had a pleasant face and a pleasant voice, and beneath his uniform, he was muscular from years of combat training.

 

So why couldn't she love him? What did that dastard Gunther have that he didn't? Aside from about forty less years to live. It couldn't be a physical attraction- Nerr was a vision of loveliness, she couldn't be attracted to someone covered from head to toe in scars and with wrinkles as deep as canyons. No, personally, Jakob believed there was a grain of truth to the theory he had overheard Zero discussing with some of the others one day. That since Gunther had been the only person who gave her any kind of affection for years, she was now so dependent on him that she was willing to marry him just to ensure he wouldn't abandon her. Of course, the outlaw had then gone into another, more disturbing theory about something called “grooming” that, disgusting as it was, made sense too.

 

The reason didn't matter at this point, though. All that mattered now was seeing how happy she was, happy because of someone else, someone who wasn't him... He wasn't a bad person. How could anyone who loved as deeply as he did be a bad person? And he did love Nerr, more than life itself. He _liked_ seeing her smiling and laughing again, he just couldn't stand to be reminded of _why_ she was like that. A few days ago had been the worst reminder yet...

 

_Her ladyship had just finished running drills with some of the other soldiers, undoubtedly letting them use her as target practice whilst in her dragon form. She was so selfless like that. For the past few weeks, Flora had taken over bringing her meals, but that day, Jakob had been in a good mood. He hadn't seen the old man once, and with his thoughts filled with nothing but his mistress, he felt light, and considerably happier than he had in ages. He informed the maid that he would prepare and bring her ladyship a tea time snack. He made apple strudel to go along with the spicy sweet tea he had gotten from a merchant in the capital a few weeks back. Lady Nerr did so love sweet things. She would be so happy, so touched that he had gone so far out of his way to make her a treat. She would probably pat his head or stroke his cheek the way she used to when she was pleased with something he did. She hadn't touched him in a meaningful way in so long. He missed it terribly._

 

_He knocked when he reached her door, but there was no answer. He knew she was in there, for he had seen her walking in and stripping off her armor. Testing the handle, it revealed itself to be locked. Ah, she had probably had Flora or Felicia run her a bath. He couldn't well expect her to get up to open the door for that. Setting the tray laden with pastries on one of the tables that lined the castle's expansive halls, Jakob reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black key. Once she had been given a room in the castle, and keys to go along with it, she had instantly given one to Jakob. He was, after all, her personal steward, and one of her most trusted companions. Even once she had married and her wretched husband complained about the butler having access to their room, Nerr had stood by her decision. “I trust Jakob with my life. I think we can trust him with a key.”_

 

_With a small click, the door opened. Pocketing the key once more, Jakob pushed the door open and picked up the tray, stepping inside. Yes, her ladyship was in the room. Her clothes lay on the bed, her armor on the floor beside it. Since he was already there, he figured he may as well gather her soiled clothes and wash them. He always added fragrance, a sweet almond extract, to the rinse water. She loved the gentle scent and always commented on it when he did her laundry. Lady Camilla had once had the ridiculous notion of doing Nerr's laundry. As if she could. No one was able to take care of his mistress the way he, Jakob, could. Pride swelled in his chest at the thought. He was always going above and beyond for her, and she adored him for it._

 

_Fitting for a princess, Lady Nerr's room had a separate bath attached to it, through a door, just like her room in the Northern Citadel. Jakob could see wisps of steam rising from the crack underneath the door, and, if he strained his hearing, could just make out the sound of splashing. Her ladyship was obviously enjoying her bath, but she was probably hungry as well. For a moment, Jakob debated with himself if he should interrupt her. Reasoning that she would forgive him at the sight of the strudel in his hand, he picked up a plate and a cup and saucer, and headed for the door to the bath. Although he knew it was improper for a butler to see his lady-of-liege in any state of undress, he couldn't help the thrill of anticipation he felt for doing just that._

 

_In those early days in the Citadel, before Flora had been around to be Nerr's lady's maid, he had been the one to help her dress and bathe. She had mostly been a child at the time, but he distinctly remembered the first time he had noticed the changes in her body as she began to mature. When she tilted her head back for him to rinse her hair, he had been captivated by the stream of bubbles flowing over the swell of her newly budding breasts. That image, forever stuck in his mind, had kept him up late many nights and caused him to wash and rewash his sheets more often than he would've preferred. As she grew older, even though he was no longer allowed to see her nude, her adult body was still evident, especially when she wore tights akin to her maids, and open blouses. But still, the thought that he might get to see her actual breasts once again, rather than the ones in his dreams, was too enticing to pass up._

 

_Unlike the door that led from hall way, the interior door was not locked. All he had to do was push the door with his shoulder for it to swing open. A cloud of steam washed over him, along with the scent of rose oil, another fragrance Lady Nerr was fond of. The steam was so thick that it was difficult to see anything. Unfortunately, he could still hear very well. The splashing had gotten louder, the sound of water lapping against the sides of the bath, but it was accompanied by other sounds as well. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of moaning- of two people moaning. The steam had cleared enough for Jakob to see through it, but by that point, he was already regretting having opened the door. The two of them were together in the tub, Gunther half lying on his back, whilst Nerr straddled his waist, tightly gripping his shoulders for leverage. His hands were busy gripping and kneading her breasts. As she rocked against him, her head fell back, her jaw slack as she moaned once again. Ordinarily, such a sound would've sent pleasure coursing through Jakob's veins, but now, only icy horror settled in his stomach._

 

_Gunther noticed him first of course. There was no shame, no embarrassment at having been caught on the older man's face, only anger and loathing. “You!” he hissed, and it was only then that Nerr opened her eyes, taking a moment to grow aware of the world around her. The moment she laid eyes on Jakob, she yelped , hands instantly going up to cover her breasts._

 

_“Jakob! What are you doing here?!” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but it was plain she was not angry. Confused and upset, definitely, but there was no anger in her voice, in her eyes._

_“I... I...” He couldn't speak. He stared at her, but rather than a whole, he only saw parts. The parts like her hips, which were being held firmly in place by large, calloused hands. Parts that made it clear that she belonged to someone else now. A faint clattering reached his ears, cutting through the oppressive silence. The cup was rattling in it's saucer, spilling tea over the rim. His hands were shaking so badly, it was a disgraceful display, but he could do nothing to stop it._

 

_“What the hell is the matter with you, boy? What made you think it was appropriate to barge in on your liege when she's bathing?” Jakob could still say nothing as he stood there, shaking from the turbulent emotions raging inside him. It was made so much worse by the way lady Nerr looked at him, still half expecting an explanation. He wanted to gesture to the plates in his hands, to show her that he was simply bringing her a snack, it was never his intention to do anything untoward. He so desperately wanted to defend himself. But the words just would not come out, his throat was squeezed so tight he could barely breathe._

 

_This was what she was doing while he slaved over a hot oven for her sake. This was what she was up to when she was supposed to be waiting for him to bring her the meals he meticulously slaved over. An icy cold sorrow gripped him, blurring his vision with tears. He couldn't cry, dammit, not here, not in front of the old man. Not while he was still gripping Nerr, still holding her so possessively, still attached to her. But the stinging wetness simply wouldn't stop once the first tears made it's way down his cheek. He felt as if all the nerves in his body had deadened, leaving him completely numb. He could only be vaguely aware of the fine porcelain plates slipping from his lifeless fingers. They crashed to the slick tile floor, covering his boots with their contents._

 

_The sound of the dishes breaking, however, brought him mostly back to his senses. Stuttering and slipping a bit on the slick floor, Jakob quickly grabbed the door handle and threw it open, backing out as fast as he could. He had half tripped back across the room, pausing to lean against the table. He gasped, swallowing mouthfuls of air, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time he was in the bath. Maybe he had been. He hadn't been able to think, to even breath in that room. It was too much, he thought, with tears redoubling the pace in which they fell from his eyes. He knew, of course, what Lady Nerr must've been doing in her marriage bed, but to see it first hand... To see the woman he loved, the woman he dreamed of (often times in that exact same position) doing such a thing with someone else...._

 

That day seemed to have been a breaking point for Jakob. Lady Nerr never brought it up again (and thankfully, neither did the old man), but the way she avoided his eye didn't escape his notice. She seemed uncomfortable around him, as if him seeing her in such an intimate state put distance between them. He wanted to grab her by her shoulders and just shake her. There had never been any distance between them before, he had seen her nude before, why was this such a problem now? Of course, he already knew the answer. He'd known it as he stood in that steamy room, with two sets of eyes on him. Gunther had been the angry one, angry that his alone time with Nerr had been interrupted. He was the one who drove a wedge between Jakob and his mistress, he always had been. Nerr would never avoid him on her own.

 

Every day, as his misery overwhelmed him more and more, a burning, murderous wrath seemed to encroach upon him as well. If he just got rid of the old man, everything would go back to how it was before. Nerr would welcome his presence and treat him like he was special again. But even as that thought made more and more sense, there was still something holding him back. A little part of him that remembered how sad his lady had been before. She hadn't treated him special, then. She had looked the same way he currently felt. And Jakob didn't want that. He wanted her love, but not at the expense of her happiness, and it seemed now that the only thing that elated her was the same Gunther he so desperately wished would finally die for good. It was simply impossible to win both her happiness and her love at the same time. At least, it was until the perfect plan struck him.

000

 

It had been so simple, really, that Jakob was surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner. He chalked it up to how deeply unhappy he'd been for the past few weeks. Then, even getting out of bed in the morning had been a test of fortitude. Today, he had been up since the break of dawn, catching up on the duties he had neglected for the past few days. People to whom his feelings for Lady Nerr were clear, like Silas, congratulated him for pulling himself out of his sorrows and moving on. Those people, who thought it was possible to move on from a love as strong as his, were blind fools, but he paid them no mind. They were not important. Nobody was important to him, but Lady Nerr.

 

He had waited until after the lunch rush to begin preparing her ladyship's tea. He never enjoyed the busy kitchens of the main castle, but so much less after spending years in the isolated Northern Citadel. He had grown accustomed to working alone, and now especially he needed his peace. Today's tea was a floral blend, with things like jasmine and rose hips. It was made especially to be sweetened, which was just perfect for what he needed to do. With a surreptitious glance around the kitchen to ensure it was empty, he pulled a small vial from his vest pocket.

 

When he'd made the trip to the market a few days ago, he had originally gone to the shady, back street apothecary to look for something for himself. Something to make the pain in his heart go away. Permanently. The man who owned the ragged cart, filled with jars and bottles of unsavory looking liquids and powders, had handed him the vial. It's contents were a lovely shade of blue, like the sky on a cloudless day, but it reeked to high hell and, he was told, it tasted as bad as it smelled. “Bes' ta drank it wit summat sweet, b'ayh.” If he could keep it down, it promised him a dreamless, peaceful sleep that he would never wake from. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time that he'd bought it, but every time he looked at the bottle, something held him back. It was his love for her, he realized, as he held the vial in shaking hands one night. He wanted to be with her, always, not dead and mouldering in the ground while she cried and eventually got over him. He wanted her to never get over him, just like he could never get over her.

 

As he pulled out the cork, Jakob quickly turned his head away, but not fast enough to avoid inhaling the noxious fumes. It was enough to make him retch. How could anyone drink something so vile? But the smell seemed to be dissipating the longer the liquid was exposed to air. He simply let the potion air out for a few more seconds, before dumping the contents in their entirety into the tea pot. Though the smell was bearable now, it was also still extremely noticeable. He added a few pieces of light rock sugar to the pot, watching it dissolve in the hot water, covering the harsh, bitter smell almost entirely. Setting the pot, as well as cups on the silver tea tray he always used, Jakob set a small pot of honey on it as well. Lady Nerr liked different types of sweetness, so that might be enough to distract her from any off notes.

 

Just as he always did, he knocked when he reached her ladyship's room. The door muffled the sounds of people talking, but they were still audible, if not decipherable. Jakob prayed they weren't having sex again...

“Um, come in.” Well, probably not- he couldn't imagine Nerr wanting an audience for that sort of thing. His heart pounded as he opened the door. What kind of reception would he get? Would he simply be told to leave? He hoped not.

 

This time, both Nerr and Gunther were sitting at the table, a mountain of thick books pushed off to one side. There was a piece of parchment in front of the young woman, and she was twirling a quill nervously in her hand. Ah yes, if Jakob wasn't mistaken, there was a war council tonight. Nerr was always so uncomfortable at those things. If she spoke up, someone like Iago put down her ideas, but if she remained silent, she was criticized for not contributing. She was probably preparing what she would say.

 

“Ah, forgive me, milady. I didn't mean to interrupt you while you were busy.” Effortlessly, Jakob slid back into his role of being the dutiful butler. It's what he always would be at heart, his lady's servant. For a long moment that seemed to drag on for an eternity, Nerr was silent. But as she spied the tray in his hands and realized the true nature (or true enough) behind his visit, her face relaxed into a smile.

 

“No, you're not interrupting at all, Jakob. I wasn't expecting you to bring tea.” The young man smiled as well, seeing his ladyship at ease finally allowed him to relax. He crossed half the room in three strides, setting the tray on the table but making sure to avoid the paper.

 

“Consider it my way of apologizing, Lady Nerr.” As he spoke, he began pouring a cup of tea, holding his breath in apprehension, waiting for the overpowering stench of the sleeping drought to fill the room. It didn't. “My behavior has been utterly unacceptable these past few weeks and, though I do not deserve it, I would beg your forgiveness.” As he finished pouring the tea, he grabbed the wooden wand from the honey pot and, holding the tea cup near it, scooped a large dollop of honey into the steaming liquid. Once he was convinced the golden liquid was adequately sweetened, he stirred it a bit to ensure everything was properly dissolved, before handing it over to Nerr. Just as he expected, she took it without any hesitation. She trusted him so implicitly...

 

While his mistress lifted the cup to her lips for a sip, Jakob repeated the entire process with the other cup, holding this one out to Gunther who, for a moment, didn't even seem to notice the steam rising before him he was so busy glaring daggers at the butler. When he finally did, his initial expression was one of pure bemusement. Jakob couldn't blame him. The last time he'd made tea for the old man, willingly at least, had been over a decade ago. The confusion gradually faded from the knight's face, leaving a wary suspicion in it's place.

 

“What's this?” Gunther asked coldly. Jakob had been expecting that and nearly smiled, standing a bit straighter.

“I do believe it's called tea. It's a floral blend, intended to calm the nerves.”

“And why are you giving it to _me_?” Sighing deeply, the younger man closed his eyes, in what he could only hope looked like a show of remorse. To Lady Nerr, at least. Old man Gunther could see through him as if he were made of glass, so fooling him completely wasn't even to be attempted.

 

“As I already said, I have acted horribly childish as of late. My behavior was conduct unbecoming of Lady Nerr's butler, so I am attempting, at least a bit, to change myself so I do not bring shame to her. This is my way of showing that I'm sincere. You said you would not drink my tea unless I poured you a cup, so here is your cup.” It was a good performance. Jakob applauded himself mentally. Of course the old man was not buying into his act, so unconvinced that it seemed to only heighten his suspicion. He drew away from the cup, glaring at it as though the acrid stench was now apparent to him.

 

“Is it posion?” he spat sardonically, a hint of seriousness in his tone. For almost thirty seconds, Jakob felt his heart stop. Of course, someone didn't live to be as old as Gunther without having a finely tuned intuition to follow. Anything he stammered out to try and convince the other man that there was nothing wrong with the tea would've only cemented how right he was and thrown Jakob's entire plan off track. Of course, there were also times when the gods took pity on him and sent him a saving grace. This time, like the last, it was in the form of Lady Nerr. She had almost finished her entire cup by now, but her crimson eyes flew open in disbelief as she heard those bitter words.

 

“Gunther! How can you say something like that?” She set her cup in it's saucer down on the table with a loud clatter, turning fully to face her husband, a dark look on her face. “Can't you see that Jakob is trying to redeem himself in your eyes? You are a grown man, how can you act so childish and petty? I'm ashamed of you...” With that she turned away, giving her back to him, her arms crossed over her chest. It took every ounce of willpower Jakob had to not cackle in delight as he watched the turmoil play out over the old man's face. It was clear that he truly did now suspect something was wrong with the tea, but it was also quite clear from how tightly Nerr's arms were crossed that if Gunther ever wanted to win his way back into his wife's good graces, he'd have to drink every drop and possibly ask for seconds.

 

With a glare that Jakob returned with a snide smile, Gunther roughly snatched the cup from him and downed it's contents in practically one swallow. Nerr had turned back, undoubtedly to ensure he didn't simply dump the tea on the floor. While her arms were still crossed, her gentle smile returned as she nodded in approval. Armed with the knowledge that Lady Nerr was finally, firmly on his side, he decided to test his luck.

 

“Well? How was it?” Judging by the tic going off in the knight's jaw, Gunther was probably exuding a tremendous amount of willpower to keep from crushing the cup in his hand, or else, force feeding it to Jakob.

“You managed to hide the taste of the poison well enough.” the butler smiled wider. If only he knew.

“I'll choose to take that as a compliment.” He stepped away from the table, bowing lowly to Lady Nerr. “I have other duties to attend to, so I'll be taking my leave now, milady.”

“Oh. Of course. I suppose I'll see you later, Jakob.”

“Of course, milady.” Much sooner than later, of course.

000

 

A good twenty or so minutes had passed since he'd served Nerr her tea. There were other chores to be done in that time, but for the first time, Jakob didn't care. His lady didn't need him at the moment, and he would be damned if he just wandered around the castle looking for things to do. He had his own things to do. He had gone back to his quarters and gathered a few things, namely a freshly sharpened knife and a velvet sack. He hadn't know if enough time had passed, but he simply couldn't wait any longer. Casually, he strolled back to Nerr's room, feeling lighter and happier than he had in longer than he could remember. The door was still locked. Pulling out his key, and smiling nostalgically as he remembered when his mistress first placed it in his hand, he unlocked the door and slipped inside with the kind of stealth that an assassin would envy.

 

If there had been a shout or a curse, he would've known something was wrong, but the only sound in the room was the sputtering of the torches and a deep, heavy breathing. Quickly locking the door back, Jakob turned around to survey the room. Most everything was where it had been when he last saw it, all the books and the tea tray right where he left it. The quill had been left carelessly on the piece of paper his mistress had been writing on, a large blot of ink now obscuring her large, slanted script. One of the elegantly carved chairs had been knocked over, though. Smiling widely, he turned to finally look at the bed.

 

Once he had changed those sheets, making sure to fluff the pillows and sprinkle a few drops of rose water on them to ensure Lady Nerr had pleasant dreams. Now, he avoided them like a plague rat. For the first time, he didn't mind approaching the bed. Nerr was sprawled out across it, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, looking as if she would fall off any minute. Gently, as if he were touching the most delicate spun glass, he reached out and shook her shoulder. “Lady Nerr? Lady Nerr, are you awake?” There was no answer but for her steady breathing, and embolden by this, he shook harder. Her head lolled lifelessly, but not so much as an eyelid twitched.

 

Satisfied, Jakob turned his attention to the other man in the room. It made him doubly happy to see that Gunther was not beside Nerr on the bed, but rather on the floor, as if he had collapse where he stood. If he had been on the bed, one arm draped over and looking ever bit the happy couple, Jakob would've pushed him off anyway, but this saved him the effort. Even slumped against the bed in a dead faint, the veteran knight looked intimidating, like a guard dog just waiting for some unwitting trespasser to step too close. Unconsciously, Jakob took a step back. A few drops of that sleeping draught was supposedly all it took for someone to eventually die in their sleep, but the old man had a nasty habit of escaping death's clutches.

 

Unsheathing his knife from it's holster on his leg, the young man stooped down, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the prone man. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he lifted his arm, pausing for the space of a heartbeat, and just as quickly brought it back down. It did not his any vital organ, no main arteries or anything like that. Instead, the cold iron blade slid effortless into the older man's right arm, stopping only when it scraped bone. As he pulled the blade out at a different angle, causing even more damage, he waited for some kind of response, but got nothing. Again, and again he sank the knife into unresisting flesh, until blood had formed pools on the rug. If Gunther felt any pain whatsoever, he didn't react to it. For a moment, a grimace seemed to cross his already furrowed brow, like a person having a bad dream, but it was gone as soon as it came.

 

Jakob would've been quite content spending all day slowly stripping the flesh off of his former combat instructor's bones, but that was wasting time. Time he wanted to spend with Lady Nerr. Getting back to his feet, he unclasped his gauntlets, setting them on the bedside table. Carefully, he pulled the young woman higher onto the bed to ensure she wouldn't fall off. He hadn't been this close to her while she was sleeping for years, not since Flora and Felecia came along. She looked so relaxed, so unlike she did during the day when it was obvious the weight of the world rested behind that gentle smile. Now, as she lay stretched out across the crimson bedspread, her jaw was slack, lips parted just enough to allow a trickle of saliva to run down the corner of her chin. Breathing shakily, and completely unable to stop himself, Jakob bent down lowering his face so that his lips were only centimeters from hers. Hesitantly, his tongue snaked out, just barely brushing her damp skin. Emboldened by her lack of response, he pressed his tongue flat against the corner of her mouth , licking up every drop of moisture there. One taste was hardly enough to satisfy him. Moaning softly, he ran his tongue over every part of her face, lavish her cheeks and eyelids and delving into the depths of her hot, wet mouth, savoring the taste of her.

 

Years of pent up lust and desperate longing were no so easily satiated, and soon, he had trailed his tongue down her neck, licking and nuzzling all the way down to her collar bones. The gods truly seemed o favor him today, for Lady Nerr was not wearing the usual sorts of high necked blouses that seemed to make up the majority of her attire these days. Rather, she wore a dark tunic that tied off to the side like a robe, creating a deep V exposed the swell of her breast. It was something that Camilla would wear, and possibly, she had even borrowed it from her elder sister. Pausing his ministrations only long enough to settle himself on the bed, his knees on either side of the unconscious girl, Jakob undid the tie that held the tunic closed. A canvas of soft, perfectly pale skin lay before him.

 

It took a moment before it sunk in that she was not wearing stays or a brassier of any sort. It made sense, of course- there was no battling, no procuring supplies today. Simply relaxing for a change. At the sight of her bare breasts, he immediately felt his member lengthen. He wasn't even aware of how hard he was panting, so enraptured by the the sight of those pale globes of flesh. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who's hair he used to wash. She was a woman now, a beautiful woman who's body promised pleasure. Reverently, he placed his hands over her breasts, massaging them slightly, relishing the way her rosy nipples hardened into stiff peaks under his palms.

 

He'd wanted to do this for so long. It wasn't fair that someone else had explored her first. No one was more devoted to her than he was- he deserved this. He deserved her love. It was unbearable. He couldn't take it anymore. Reaching down, he undid the fall of his trousers, pushing them down to his knees as he positioned himself between her knees. He pushed her legs up slightly, watching the way they naturally fell apart, like the wings of a butterfly. Her core was exposed to him, the hot center of her that he longed for almost as much as her heart. She was, of course, concealed by the dark silk of her small clothes, but a few determined yanks quickly broke the seams, and the flimsy garment was discarded. Bowing his head, Jakob took her left breast into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then creating a hard suction, biting down on the tender flesh there until he felt something give under his teeth and a coppery taste exploded on his tongue. Far from being repulsed, he began sucking gently again, twisting the image of a nursing mother into something deviant, macabre.

 

As he continued lapping up the blood he'd drawn, he reached down, running his fingers over the fleshy lips of her sex. For a while, he simply stroked them, the short curls prickling his skin in a wonderful way. It was only a moment or two before he slipped them inside, pressing them into the depths of her womanhood. She was so hot, but surprisingly tight. Considering she and the old man had spent nearly every free moment they had locked in this room, he hadn't been expecting that. It would be easy to pretend she was still a virgin, still pure, waiting for him to be her first as he rightly should have.

 

Though she was unconscious, her body was reacting to Jakob's ministrations, but her opening was still very dry. Sitting back on his knees, the young butler spat into his hand, coating his stiff member liberally with saliva. He would've loved to take his time with lady Nerr, lavishing her body with his loving attention until she was ready for him, but he didn't have as much time as he would've liked with her. Even though she and the old man wouldn't be waking up any time soon, there was still the possibility of being interrupted by someone else. Using his hands to guide himself, Jakob slid forcefully into his mistress, unable to fully stifle his groan of satisfaction. Finally, _finally_ he could have her, all of her, the way he'd wanted to for so long.

 

It was a type of bliss he'd never felt before, being inside of the comatose woman. It wasn't as if he were a virgin; women who weren't Nerr found him quite attractive. And though he generally regarded them as being below his notice, they proved to be useful when when his hormones and unrequited love tormented him unbearably. He never looked at them (that made it too difficult to pretend they were lady Nerr) and he was generally focused on finishing as quickly as possible so he didn't have to waste any more time than was absolutely necessary with them, but for those few minutes when his eyes were shut tightly as he moved inside them, everything terrible seemed to fall away. And when his body was spent, he had always felt surprisingly happy... until the harsh reality came crashing back down upon him.

 

But this time, there was no harsh reality. He would not open his eyes and see Felicia standing there with her uniform pulled down to her waist and a dewy-eyed expression that made her look even stupider. This time, it really was his ladyship who's hot, tight walls gripped his cock as he thrust into her. Her form would not turn into someone else, someone inconsequential, if he blinked, and he kept his eyes open wide despite the temptation to let them fall close in pleasure so that he could savor that fact. As desperately as he wanted this pleasure to last, he was quickly approaching his limit. He so wanted to luxuriate in the sensation even longer, but it felt so wonderful, he could not stop his thrusts from becoming faster, more erratic.

 

As his cock swelled and throbbed, he shifted so that he was practically lying on top of Nerr, slipping his arms under hers to grip her shoulders. He could feel the bones of his hips grinding against hers, her warm, shallow breaths against his ear as he buried his face in her neck. Jakob moaned and grunted between his panting breaths as he came, his orgasm coursing through him so powerfully it made stars erupt before his eyes. He whimpered slightly, going still, pumping his seed deep inside of her. In the back of his unfocused mind, he vaguely wondered what a child the two of them had would look like. He had never been one to yearn after children and family- his memories of his own parents had burned away any desire to relive his childhood. But if it was with lady Nerr... he would gladly give her as many children as she wanted, and he would love them all if only because they were a part of her.

 

But of course, as the pleasure faded back into the oppressive miasma of reality, Jakob knew such a thing was impossible. Nerr would never want his children. It was foolish dreaming of a happy family that could never exist. She had a family she was quite happy with, and it didn't include him. He pulled his softening member out from her warm depths, some of his seed spilling onto the bedspread as well. He sat back on his knees and stayed like that for a moment. Now that the momentary happiness he had gained was ebbing away, bitter disappointment was once again beginning well up inside of him. The knowledge that, even after this, he still didn't posses her completely filled him with loathing. As he watched the gentle rise and fall of Nerr's chest, he could see her breathing was becoming more and more shallow. Soon, she would be gone, and even though no one else could ever claim her then, he, Jakob, _still_ wouldn't have her for himself. He wanted her, he _needed_ her, everything lovely and good and perfect about her. And he would not be content until he had it.

 

Tucking his limp manhood back into his pants, he reached for the knife on the table, it's steel blade gleaming in the low torchlight. He smiled gently as he brushed the hair away from her neck, his gaze soft with love. They would always be together now...

000

 

Prince Xander of Nohr frowned as he stalked through the halls of Castle Krakenburg. That was nothing new of course, for with his stern face and perpetually furrowed brows, it seemed that he was always frowning. Only those who knew him well could decipher what emotion lay behind his otherwise stoic facade. As his sister Camilla fell in step behind him, she quickly realized that this was his worried frown. It wasn't easy to see right away, but she could tell he was grinding his teeth. He always did that when he was worried, ever since he was young. That and the way his lips pursed slightly, what could've been a pout on someone less severe, told her that something was weighing heavily on his mind. And she had a pretty good idea what.

 

“I think you're over-reacting, Brother. Just because Nerr missed _one_ war council doesn't mean anything's wrong.” Xander stopped mid step and turned to face her, his eyebrows practically grinding together the same way his teeth were.

“That's exactly what it means, Camilla. Nerr would not shirk her responsibility so easily.”

 

“Perhaps she found herself... detained, so to speak. You forget she's a newlywed.” The younger woman swallowed the bile that rose up in her throat at the mere thought of her lovely little sister engaged in, ugh, ' _marital relations_ ' with that disgusting old man. In fact, that was the main reason she had followed Xander to check up on Nerr. She wanted to interrupt any naughty things they might be doing as often as possible. Xander sighed quietly and turned on his heel, continuing his trek along the dim corridor that led to their sister's new room.

 

“I considered that... for a moment, before I dismissed the thought because it's absolutely ridiculous. Even if Nerr was tempted by such a flight of fancy, Gunther would never allow her to miss a council for something so frivolous. He is a veteran who fought alongside our father in the war- he of all people would understand the importance of strategy meetings.” In truth, that was one of the reasons Xander did not object to his younger sister's union with her retainer as adamantly as Camilla did. Her marrying a Nohr veteran was surprisingly good publicity amongst the other knights. It seemed to prove to them that, despite her Hoshidan blood, she was firmly on Nohr's side. Yes, things like love were fine and all, but at the moment, Xander was more worried about the soldiers thinking there was a traitor in their midst.

 

It was all the more reason Nerr needed to attend every war council. That craven dastard Iago was constantly trying to poison their father's mind against her, and anything she did that made it seem that she wasn't completely invested in the war proved to be another nail in her coffin. As he finally reached her door, he rapped his knuckles against the dark wood. As he waited for a response, the eldest sibling mentally rehearsed the tongue lashing he would give her. One moment became two, and still there was no sound to be heard inside. He knocked again, this time calling out Nerr's name, but there was still no reply. Camilla sidled up to him.

 

“Do you see now? She's probably fallen asleep, so you can berate her in the morning.”

“I don't care if she's asleep, I will berate her now.” He reached for the handle, intent on throwing the door open, but was met only with resistance. After rattling the handle for a moment in vain, he once more pounded on the door, more forcefully this time. “Nerr! I would have words with you! Open the door this instant!”

 

Camilla cringed slightly. That was a phrase none of the siblings wanted to hear. This was now the stern, no-nonsense first prince of Nohr brother standing before her. Nerr, ever the dutiful sister, usually came running when she heard that tone, so it even struck her as odd when the door remained tightly shut. Concern began forming a knot in the pit of her stomach. Xander stopped pounding and took a step back from the door, giving Camilla a look that would've said 'I told you so' had it not also been laced with concern.

 

“Do you still think I'm over reacting?”

“Maybe she's sleeping—”

“You know as well as I that Nerr does not sleep that deeply. Curses, where is the key to this door?”

“Nerr has it, obviously. But you know, Zero can pick locks.” Xander held a hand up to stop her.

“I'm not comfortable with him around Nerr or Elise. What of Belka? Surely she can get into a locked room, considering her past profession.”

 

The moment Camilla had called for her retainer, the young assassin appeared by her side, seemingly out of thin air, but the fact was that she simply didn't allow her liege to go anywhere without following closely from the shadows. Silently, the younger woman knelt before the door, taking a set of lock picks from the depths of her cloak and within the span of a few seconds, the door had cracked open. Getting to her feet, slipped inside with a deftness that did her former profession proud. Just as Xander was about to follow suite, he found his way barred by the same girl who had just as quickly stepped back out, closing the door behind her. He frowned.

 

“Step aside, Belka. I must speak to my sister.”

“That isn't advisable, sire.” the young woman's face voice was flat, emotionless, but the corners of her mouth were pulled down ever so slightly. Just as Camilla could easily read her stoic brother's face, so too could she see that that slight change in expression spoke multitudes with her retainer. Heart pounding against her ribcage, the princess stepped forward.

“What is it, Belka? What's wrong? Oh Gods, what's wrong?” That Belka still remained silent, looking away from her mistress sent terror creeping up Camilla's spine like an icy hand. Unable, or simply unwilling to wait for the younger girl to offer an explanation for her behavior or cryptic warning, Xander pushed past her, throwing the door open and marching into the room.

 

At once, the stench of blood overpowered him. He was used to blood, spilling it day after day on the battlefield, all but bathing in it as he cut down the enemies of his country in his father's name. Blood was simply a fact of life for a solider. But the battlefield was one thing. One did not expect the putrid scent to follow them home, to completely overtake their beloved little sister's room when they need to yell at her. The powerful smell came so unexpectedly that it actually took Xander a moment to get his bearings. At once, the horror was laid bare to him. The grisly scene, blood splattered all over the walls and soaked into the carpets, reminded him of the time his father had taken him to see the remains of a village laid to waste by the Hoshidans when he was young. The people had been killed inside their homes, simple people, farmers and merchants, people who had no business falling on a sword. He remembered quite vividly a young couple who had been lying in a pool of blood and maggots at the foot of their bed, their three young children limp and cold between them.

 

Curiosity beating out her fear and apprehension, Camilla quickly followed her brother, stopping short as she too took in the macabre stage set before them. For a moment, she simply stood there, shaking as grief overtook her, until her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell to her knees on the hard floor. She hardly noticed the pain in her joints as the pain in her heart consumed her. Silently, Belka entered the room once more, taking note of her mistress wailing on the ground and prince Xander shaking his head in his hands. She had expected these reactions, which was why she had warned them not to enter the room, but human nature was not designed to obey so easily. The more forbidden something was, the more humans wanted it.

 

The young girl's calm expression was a facade. She too had been taken aback by the scent of blood, distraught by the sight of two bodies in lady Nerr's room, but she had been trained too well to let her emotions take over. The main thing to figure out at this point was how this could've happened. Castle Krakenburg was not, by any means, an impenetrable fortress- she herself had broken in when she had still been a child- but there were guards everywhere. Security had been heightened considerably after the attempt on King Garon's life in Amusia, not to mention all the assassins who had come after Lady Nerr herself. It seemed impossible to think that someone could've waltzed into the castle and taken two highly trained soldiers unawares.

 

Instinctively, Belka began canvasing the room, looking for a clue that might tell how this could've happened. The first thing that caught her attention was an acrid scent. It was barely noticeable under the stench of congealing blood, but her senses had been honed over the years to detect poisons. At once, she zeroed in on the source, the teapot that was still on it's tray on the table in the center of the room. Lifting the top, she brought it to her nose, but quickly recoiled. The smell might've hardly been unnoticeable for the average person, but she was not average. Each of the teacups, too, was laced with the smell. An unusual choice of posion, but effective nonetheless. Still, she couldn't think of any assassin, Hoshidan or otherwise, who would use such a crude methodology. And the use of poison made the carnage even more unusual and senseless.

 

Behind her, she could hear prince Xander and lady Camilla muttering to themselves or to each other, how did this happen, who could do something like this. That was what Belka too wanted to find out. She knelt beside Sir Gunther's prone form, paying no heed to the blood soaking into the knees of her pants. He was nearly as bloody as Lady Nerr, but there didn't seem to be a single killing wound on him. There was injury, of course- it seemed as if someone had taken their sweet time insuring that he would never wield a weapon again, but that didn't make any sense whatsoever. No assassin would break into a heavily fortified castle and then waste time to torture one of their targets just for the sake of doing so. It was counterintuitive. As she mulled over this inconsistency, a slight gasp broke through her thoughts. It couldn't have come from either of the royals, it was too close for that. For a moment, she thought she might've imagined it, until she heard it again. Weak, shallow and ragged, but definitely a breath. Out of habit, she reached out, pressing two fingers to the underside of the old knight's jaw. She used to do that to make sure she had completed her objective and could safely go home, dread coursing through her if she somehow still felt a pulse, but this time she felt only a numb bemusement.

 

Death was nothing new to Xander. He'd seen dozens of his brothers and sisters buried before their time. Nerr was not even his half-sister. She was technically a hostage that their father had adopted, but he still loved her as if his blood flowed through her veins. She had come so far, she had endured so much, and now that there was finally a glimmer of light in the seemingly endless darkness... she was gone. It was unjust, and when he found who was responsible for this, he would personally watch the light go out from their eyes. But at the moment, he could barely think of what to do next. It seemed to take a while for his mind to make sense of what he saw through his haze of sorrow, which was why he didn't think much of it when he saw Belka rummaging through her cloak as she knelt on the bloody floor. She pulled out a handful of glass vials from it's tattered depths and began uncorking and smelling each one. Even as his mind seemed to catch up with him, it still didn't make sense.

 

“Belka... what are you doing?”

“Looking for an antidote, sire.” It was such a curious reply that even Camilla looked up, her face awash with tears. An antidote for what, she wondered. The blood on the walls? Xander voiced her question aloud, though in a less sardonic way. Apparently finding one that smelled correct, the young girl returned the rest to their hiding place before answering. “For Sir Gunther, sire. I can't be sure exactly how strong his immunity to posion is, but if he's anything like me, he has about another minute before it kills him for good.”

 

“He's still alive?!” both sibling were taken aback by this. When they had seen him collapsed on the floor beside Nerr, they'd simply assumed that whatever assassin had come for Nerr had killed him to just to be thorough. Belka continued speaking as she administered the antidote.

 

“I'd suggest you get a healer. Antidotes can only do so much, and they don't do anything to combat blood loss.” Nodding shakily, Camilla got to her feet, unsteady though she was, and stumbled back out the door. Xander, unsteady on his own feet, walked over to the bed. His boots made a squishing sound as he stepped on the carpet, turning his stomach. He pointedly kept his eyes turned away from the bed itself, instead focusing on Belka as she continued her ministrations.

 

“How can you know he was poisoned?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can smell it. I assume both of them were poisoned, seeing as the tea is laced with it. It's not purported as a poison. Technically it's a sleeping draught, only in as much as it usually kills the person in their sleep. A few drops would usually be enough to kill someone, but I think whoever did this used an entire bottle.”

 

Xander found himself at a loss for words. If they were poisoned, why the need for this senseless carnage? A political statement? A threat? Perhaps when his head was clearer he might be able to understand, but at that moment, he simply allowed his mind to remain blank. It seemed an unlikely miracle that anyone would be able to survive whatever took place in this room, but after a few moments of still labored breaths, Gunther's eyes slowly flickered open. The young prince smiled slightly, despite the pain in his heart.

 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, brother-in-law. It seems death favors you.” As the words left his lips, he realized how cruel they truly were. In what way was this being favored? In the back of his mind, he realized the older man would probably come to resent them for not allowing death to claim him this time. Groaning slightly, Gunther tried to push himself to his feet with his ruined arm, but the shredded muscles and tendons would not support his weight and with a cry of pain, he collapsed once more. Xander caught him, acting more on instinct than any conscious thought.

 

“Stop this. You need to rest. You're not well.”

“No... I need... Nerr...” His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper and his breathing was ragged and shallow, but there was a determination in his eyes. The determination of one desperate to protect another. Xander felt as if someone had struck his heart with an iron rod.

 

“You can't do anything in the state you're in now.” But the older man would have none of that, it seemed. With his other arm, he pushed away from the young prince, somehow managing to clamber to his feet. Leaning heavily against the bed, Gunther somehow managed to stumble to where Nerr still lay prone, paying no heed to, or simply not noticing, the blood soaked deep into the down mattress. As the blood loss took it's toll, he collapsed once more onto the drenched bed, reaching out weakly to his wife.

 

“Nerr... Nerr, wake up... please... please, wake up...”

 

Xander shut his eyes tightly against the sting of tears. It was as if Gunther didn't even see her. But then again, maybe he didn't. The soldiers bleeding out on the battlefield often cried out strange things, seeing specters and demons and loved ones alike in their dying throes. Reaching out, he placed a hand on the older man, his brother-in-law's shoulder.

 

“She won't wake up, Gunther. It's too late for her.”

“No. That's not true. Nerr is strong, it takes more than a little posion to--”

“She's _not_ waking up. She's gone now.” This time, he could not keep the frustration, the sorrow, from creeping into his voice. Of course his sister was strong; she had lived through hell and come through whole on the other side. She had fought and bled and yet stood tall when others had bowed, but none of that mattered now.

 

It wasn't a “little poison” that brought so much finality to her demise, but the fact that the cold, ravaged body lying in a pool of blood upon the bed was missing it's head. Perhaps about an inch above the clavicle, her neck had been sliced, all the way around, through the veins and tendons and spine. The knight lifted his head slightly, taking in the gruesome scene for the first time, perhaps. His eyes widened in despair and dismay, a choking sound coming from his throat.

 

“No...no no no... This can't... not again...” He broke off with a strangled sob, letting his head fall forward. “This can't happen again... I swore I'd protect her...” Swallowing his own tears, Xander spoke up.

“This is not your fault, Gunther. You did not fail her.” _'We all did...'_ he thought bitterly, but wisely kept that thought to himself. “When we find who is responsible for this- and we _will_ find them, believe you me- they will pay a hundred, thousand fold for what they have taken from us...” Though he meant those words with all his heart, it did little to console the grieving man. Or himself, for that matter.

000

 

News of anything regarding the royal family spread quickly, but word of the middle princess' apparent assassination moved like wildfire. The servants gossiped, the soldiers debated who the culprit could be, and those close to her mourned. In Xander's chambers, he and his siblings had retreated from the rest of the castle so they could be alone with their grief. Elise sobbed openly, making no attempt to stem the flow of tears as Camilla rocked her slightly, her own eyes red and swollen. Azura sat in the corner of the room, silent and seemingly impassive save for the steady flow of tears dripping from her chin onto her tightly clenched hands. Even Leo, who was normally in control of his feelings, sniffled and fisted away tears.

 

“How could this have happened?” he asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time. “We have guards. We have sentries. It's not like someone just waltzed in and killed her.”

“They were poisoned.” Xander reminded him. His younger brother glared at him.

“You think I don't know that? And the poison, what, made her head explode?!” Elise wailed even louder at this, burying her face into her sister's chest. Leo hung his head, obviously ashamed of distressing his sister even more.

 

“Maybe someone was disguised as a maid or butler and snuck in. No one thinks twice to look at the servants.” Azura's voice was quiet but surprisingly steady as she spoke up for the first time.

“But then who could be responsible for this?” Xander shot back. “Even the dullest guard would realize if we suddenly had a Hoshidan maid running around.”

 

“Maybe it was a Nohrian. Plenty of Nohrians are racist against Hoshidans...” All that was true, but somehow, it still didn't add up. How did they know where she was staying? How did they know the tea would reach her? How was there not a struggle? Nerr wouldn't take tea from a strange servant; she was very particular about that. Frowning even deeper, Xander looked up. Nerr's maids, Flora and Felicia, were in his chambers as well, though they stayed on the far side of the room, out of anybody's way. His sister had considered them family, too, part of her “other family”, as she referred to her retainers in the Northern Citadel. Mirroring Elise and Camilla, Felicia wept openly in her elder sister's arms.

 

“Flora.” he called out. The blunette started, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks in an effort to look presentable. “Did you take Nerr her tea today?” The maid shook her head, sniffling quietly.

 

“No, milord. Lady Nerr was preparing for the war council and she doesn't like to be bothered when she's busy, so I was going to bring her tea afterwards...” Her voice broke slightly as she trailed off. Well, that just didn't make sense. Flora and Jakob were the only people who's tea Nerr would even drink... As if reading his mind, Camilla spoke up as well.

 

“And what of Jakob? Did he bring her tea?”

“I do not know, milady. I haven't seen Jakob all day.”

 

As his siblings began talking amongst themselves once more, Xander let himself fall into thought. The only members of Nerr's “family” that weren't gathered here were Jakob and Gunther. Maybe it made sense that Jakob wasn't there; from what he had gathered, the young butler was notoriously unsociable to anyone who wasn't his lady-of-liege. It made sense that he would want to mourn alone. And as for Gunther... After one of the castle's strategists had healed him to the best of their ability, he had opted to remain in the room he'd shared with Nerr, keeping a silent vigil over her lifeless form.

 

The tears he had shed for her briefly had all but dried up, and it seemed that the older man was now empty of everything as he stared at his young wife, mindlessly brushing his thumb over her bloodstained knuckles. Xander had assured him yet again that they would bring her murderer to justice, for it was the only consolation he could think to offer. “Jakob...” At first, he wasn't sure he had heard correctly, it was whispered so quietly, but Gunther repeated himself, infinitesimally louder, the same single word. He remained silent afterwards, going back to caressing Nerr's cold hand.

 

At the time, Xander had assumed he was simply worried about the boy, how he would take the news perhaps. But now, that seemed less and less likely. For, after all, if Flora didn't bring Nerr her tea and she drank it, who else could it have been. And given what Camilla had told him about the butler's possessiveness regarding his mistress, it seemed impossible that he wouldn't have brewed her tea himself. Without even intending to, he found himself on his feet. With long strides, he walked over to the maids, who shied away from him.

 

“Where is Jakob's room?”

“I-it's in the servant's quarters... it's the last room at the end of the hallway, on the left.” Felicia answered, her voice slightly muffled as she hid her face. Turning on his heel, Xander made his way to the door. By that time, Leo got to his feet as well.

“Brother, where are you going?”

“To follow a hunch.”

000

 

To hear the servants chattering away, gossiping about his sister's death as if a tale of a runaway bride, made anger and disgust rise within him like bile. He wanted to have every one of them lashed for their impudence, but there wasn't time for that. The last room on the left. He tried the handle. It was locked, but that was hardly a surprise. Backing away from the door a bit, Xander reared back and gave it a powerful kick, breaking the wood around the lock and sending it slamming against the interior wall of the room. The powerful crash was enough to finally silence the incessant noise of the servants. Xander walked stepped inside, Leo and Azura close behind him.

 

The room seemed barely big enough for one person, let alone three. It was sparse, to say the least. A bed, a small table with a bowl and pitcher, and a trunk were all the furnishings it held. Leo looked over his brother's shoulder.

 

“Was he supposed to be here?”

“Where else would he be?” Xander snapped back, squeezing between his siblings to get back out. He walked up to one of the other butlers, who quickly bowed his head in deference. There was no time for that. “You. Have you seen Jakob today?”

“N-not recently, milord.”

“Then when?”

“I-i-i don't know. Not for a couple hours at least.” Xander slammed his fist into the wall in frustration, sending all the servants scurrying away from him lest he turn his anger on them next.

“Damnation! He could be long gone by now!” Azura approached him, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

 

“Xander, what are you talking about? Why are you looking for Jakob?”

“Because this is _his_ doing! He's the one that killed Nerr!” Her golden eyes widened, before narrowing.

“You don't know that. It could have been anyone-”

 

“Could it really, Azura? I sincerely doubt it could. You haven't known Nerr as long as I have, sister, but even you must've noticed that she's peculiar when it comes to her food and drink. She only eats what certain people prepare, she says- _said_ ,” he corrected himself with difficulty. “That she doesn't like other people's smell on her food. Belka could smell the poison in that tea; do you truly think Nerr, with her acute senses, would drink something that smelled off if it wasn't given to her by someone she trusts implicitly? My sister may have been naive, but she was not stupid!” Xander broke off as his voice rose with anger and grief. He needed to control himself, he could allow himself to let go of his emotions when he was alone. Even though it was clear he made a reasonable argument, Azura still seemed unsure.

 

“But... I just can't imagine Jakob doing something so awful. He... he loved Nerr, deeply and truly. He told me so himself. How could he kill someone he loves so much?”

“Maybe that's _why_ he killed her.” Leo said quietly. “It must be hell to see the person you love in the arms of another...”

“But why kill her?” The girl asked mournfully. Xander shook his head.

“We can ask him that when we find him and bring him back here.” He stalked away, back to the main castle. He planned to deploy the entire army to find that bastard if that's what it took...

000

 

Jakob had been walking for days. At least, that's what it felt like. The sky was almost always dark in Nohr, so without any kind of schedule to stick to, the days seemed to blend into each other. It was had to tell if he had been walking for weeks or hours. He was going to go with weeks, based on how tired his feet were. He hadn't packed very well when he had left the castle- there wasn't time for that. But it was okay. He had the only thing that really mattered to him.

 

He wasn't even sure where he was going, only that he wanted to go somewhere secluded. Maybe high up in the mountains. He had found a warm patch of sunlight, so he decided to take a short break. Settling down, he wrapped his arms tightly around the velvet sack he had been carrying. It's constant weight was comforting, and he closed his eyes, resting his head atop it. Despite the fact that he was a fugitive, running from his country now, he was surprisingly happy as of late. There was a lot to be happy about, after all. There were no more chores, no more waking up at the crack of dawn. No more annoying people to pester him, no more miserable old man to make his life wretched. He was finally free of all his burdens. He gave a contented sigh, smiling slightly.

 

“I'm so happy now. And it's because of you. You love me, don't you?” Of course she did, but he still liked to ask. Before he got his answer, the sound of quickly approaching footsteps alerted him that he was not as alone as he wanted to be. Quickly getting to his feet, he redoubled his grip on the sack. He was more interested in making a quick getaway than in fighting, but it seemed he was surrounded. Surrounded by Hoshidan forces rather than Nohrian ones. That was almost as bad and still just as annoying. One of the soldiers pointed a katana at him.

 

“Who are you? What is your business here, Nohrian?”

“I'm just walking.”

“A likely story! You are with the Nohrian army!” Jakob scoffed.

“Not anymore. I'm a deserter.” The soldiers scowled, forming a tighter circle around him.

“We shall see where your loyalties lie, Nohrian scum.”

000

 

Prince Ryouma of Hoshido sat near the edge of camp, his legs crossed and his eyes closed. In and out, he focused on his breathing, pushing away every other worry and concern hounding him. The massacre in Chevalier, Takumi's increasing belligerence... he could not deal with those things unless he had a clear mind, and the only way he could clear his mind was to breathe. In and out, in and out. That was the way his father had taught him to meditate. It had been so hard when he was young, he was so impatient and easily distracted that father often scolded him. A king needed to be calm, and he would be king one day. ' _I am trying, Father. Surely you see that. I am trying to be a good leader to make you proud...'_

 

Everything he did was to honor the memory of his parents, to fulfill their wishes. But one wish of their in particular was causing him the most grief. Ryouma had sworn on his father's grave that he would bring his sister back home, and he would be damned if he didn't, but why did she have to make it so difficult? What had those Nohrian dogs done to her to poison her against her country? He remembered the last time he had seen her face to face, in Notrodea. She had wanted medicine for the youngest princess of Nohr, who she abhorrently referred to as her little sister. Ryouma wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until he couldn't shake any more. He wanted to scream at her that some little Nohrian wretch wasn't her sister- Sakura was her sister, her sister who cried her eyes out when Nerr had turned her back on them and walked back to her captors.

 

But he wasn't cruel enough to let a child die, even if they were from Nohr. He had offered to give her the medicine... just as long as she came home with him where she belonged. He would never forget the way she recoiled from him, her eyes filled with loathing, her voiced dripping with disgust. _“You monster!! You would blackmail me for the life of a child?! If all Hoshidans are like you, then I made the right choice!!”_

 

For so many years, he had dreamed of the day he would see his sister again. Of embracing her, sparring with her, telling her stories of all the things she had missed... of being family again. He'd carried the prayer ring he and his siblings had made for her since that day. He'd wanted to give it to her the first day she returned to Hoshido, but it seemed that one thing after another popped up and before he could even broach the subject, she had returned to Nohr. It was like they stole her away before his eyes all over again. It wasn't right. Their father hadn't died so she could stay in Nohr. And regardless of what Yukimura said, their mother would _not_ understand why she would return to the people who took her from her family. Her _real_ family.

 

“Brother, are you alright?” He slowly opened his eyes, smiling up at the shy face standing over him.

“Of course, Sakura.” She looked away, twisting the handle of her festal.

“You seemed upset. You were frowning and gritting your teeth.” Perhaps his mind hadn't been as clear as he had hoped. Reaching up, he patted her head affectionately, the same way father used to do with him.

“I'm fine, little sister. I was just thinking that the scouts are taking their sweet time in coming back.”

 

“But they are back, brother! Sister just told me that they were seen coming back moments ago and that they've captured a spy!” Ryouma jumped to his feet. Why had no one informed him of this? And a spy? Perhaps after all the defeats they'd suffered at the hands of the Nohrian army, the gods were finally beginning to smile in their favor. He rushed to the front of the camp, wanting to be the first to see this spy. Sakura and Hinoka joined him shortly, and Takumi showed up too after a spell. Before long, the soldiers appeared. The head scout rushed forward, bowing before him.

 

“Sire! We've captured an enemy loitering near the Chasm. He claims to be a deserter, but Nohrians lie with every word they speak.”

“That they do.” Ryouma nodded. “Bring them to me!”

 

There was a bit of commotion as the spy was dragged to the front of the group. The prince's eyes widened. He recognized this man, he remembered him from that first battle against the Nohrians. He was one of Nerr's servants in Nohr apparently, though it struck him as odd that the king who wanted her dead would allow her to have servants. This butler was not nearly as impeccable as he had been the last time Ryouma saw him. He wore a simple tunic and trousers this time, and they were both dusty and worn. His long hair was tangled, with leaves and other debris matted into it. But the most striking thing was the sack he clutched tightly to his chest. It stank to high hell and there was a swarm of flies buzzing around it, but the man seemed oblivious to all of that. He glared defiantly at the prince.

 

“You serve my sister in Nohr, don't you?” The butler sneered at him with contempt.

“I served Lady Nerr in Nohr. I wasn't aware that she was related to any lobsters.” Hinoka stepped forward furiously, intending to teach their captive a lesson about respecting royalty, but Ryouma held a hand up to stop her. It was no surprise that Nohrian scum held no respect for Hoshidans, royal or otherwise, and that wasn't even such a terrible slur, so he let it slide. He was more interested in getting information about the army and, more importantly, his sister.

 

“You _served_? I'm told that you are a deserter. So you have abandoned my sister, your liege?” This riled the younger man up.

“I would never abandon Lady Nerr! She is my entire reason for being! I live for her. I would die for her!”

“But you've left Nohr.”

“Nohr means nothing to me. Where Lady Nerr is, that is where I will be.” Finally he was getting somewhere.

“Then where is she?”

“As if I'd tell you. Rot in hell, Hoshidan savage.” This Ryouma would not let slide. He would not let some Nohrian peasant keep him away from his sister. He reached out and grabbed the butler's arm, dragging him forward.

 

“You will tell me where my sister is!” The other man tried to pull away, and as they struggled, his grip on the sack loosened. One more tug from the Hoshidan prince sent the bag and it's contents tumbling from his arms. If he had lived a thousand lifetimes, Ryouma would never have been prepared for what he saw. As the sack landed with a rather squishy thump, sending the flies swarming off in all directions, what it held rolled out slightly, but enough for everyone present to see.

 

It was a head, simply put, but not something most people would associate the word “head” with. Much of the flesh had rotted off, exposing the sticky, reddish brown bone beneath. The jaw hung slack, the slimy, gray-green tongue lolling out. Most of the hair had fallen out, leaving only a few stringy clumps, and the eyes, half open, were covered in a thick white film. Tiny beetles and fat, wriggling maggots danced over the decaying flesh, giving the impression that the putrid skin was moving.

 

Such a sight on a battlefield or in a razed village was bad enough, to be presented with a stranger so consumed by death. But the horror to end all horrors was in recognizing the repulsive death mask. For how could he not recognize it? The few clumps of hair that were left were that odd, dusky shade of blue and through their cloudiness, he could tell that the eyes were once a vivid crimson. And from what was left of the ears, he could just make out the pointed tips and scalloped ridge. There was no doubt that this- this stinking, decomposing chunk of meat- was once his sister. And just as he realized it, so too did everyone else. A piercing shriek cut through the air as Sakura covered her eyes with her hands. Hinoka rushed over, pulling the young girl to her chest to shield her from the sight, but it was already too late. Murmurs seemed to pass through the camp like a ripple that the princess was dead, the Nohrians had killed the princess.

 

Taking advantage of the confusion and terror, Jakob broke free from Ryouma's grasp. But he didn't try to run, quite the opposite. He dove to the ground, cradling the rotting head in his arms once more. He barely noticed the bugs burrowing into her skin and eyes, the nauseating smell, or even the fact that she was dead. All he noticed, all that mattered, was that she was his and no one else would ever have her. He pressed his lips to hers, paying no heed to the maggots that crawled over them and nipped at his skin. He smiled slightly, gazing at her tenderly. Even here, now, amidst the cries of outrage and groans of disgust, he was utterly captivated by her beauty. So much so that he didn't notice the Hoshidan prince standing above him unsheathe his electrified katana. The world around him didn't matter any more. It never did, to be honest, but now, he no longer had to pretend. All that mattered was Lady Nerr.

 

“You love me, don't you?” He hadn't gotten his answer the last time he asked, what with being interrupted by the Hoshidan army. He knew, of course, but he still liked to be reassured from time to time. Holding her head upright, the decaying flesh deforming under the pressure of his fingers and oozing coagulated blood over them, he moved it back and forth in a grotesque miming of a nod. _Yes_ , she said time and again. _Yes yes yes yes yes yes..._ So content and joyful in his love, Jakob didn't even notice the blade when it was brought down on his neck. He was truly, truly happy.

000000000000

 

A/N- Well, that turned out quite wonderfully. I always imagine that Gunther, Jakob and FeMU are in a love triangle, and if they're not all in a consensual relationship together having tender threesomes, then she's dealing with two passive- aggressive yanderes who are constantly at each other's throats. I have to say, though, I am SO happy with the way this turned out, especially the part at the end. It's hard to describe rotting meat in a textural way, and if anyone has suggestions for how I could've improved that, I would love to hear them. But regardless, thank you for reading.


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